Poison & Wine
by WonderTwinC
Summary: I don't love you, but I always will. A series of drabbles formed from prompts. A thousand different ways their story could have ended. Rumpelstiltskin x Belle.
1. Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This

Well, I've been away for awhile. I have come back with a new fandom and a new OTP. Rumbelle owns my heart, so you know, and this is going to be where I post a bunch of drabbles for them. This was prompted to me on tumblr as 'Belle dreams Rumbelle catches her again'.

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><p><em>Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This<em>

Sometimes, she dreams. It's about all that she has in this place that is truly hers, and so she holds onto them.

In her dreams, _she is alive._

Tonight she dreams of _him_, all wicked laughter and dark eyes that she could lose herself in. She is locked in a dungeon that has no name in a place that she doesn't know but he is there with her. He is hellfire against the priests and his magic rips them apart, yet she is not afraid.

He may have broken a part of her, but she still trusts him.

_She will always trust him._

He saves her, of course, catching her as he had before, her body fitting securely in his arms. She smiles up at him and he looks at her as though trying to learn all of her secrets without a word. Both shift, his head lowering while she tilts her to the side. They are so close, so very close and she can feel his breath against her lips-

Her cell is cold when she wakes up, immediately trying to grasp onto the last stands of her fading dream.

All she can remember is what it feels like to be warm, safe and _caught_.


	2. and there was skin

I am back again, hurrah. This was something I wrote at work to cyprith's prompt of 'Storybrooke Nudist Colony'. This is what we get.

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><p><em>and there was skin<em>

He has heard tell of a secret society within Storybrooke. Of course, he is aware that this town holds many secrets, but this is perhaps the most intriguing of all.

A secret to be uncovered.

So it is that one warm Friday evening when the sun is beginning its descent toward the earth that Mr. Gold leaves his shop and heads toward the back side of the hospital. The streets are relatively bare for this time of day and it affords him the ability to blend in more so than usual.

He slips behind the hospital with ease, staying in the shadows as he approaches the small wooded area. There is a fence, but the cold metal is no match for a man such as himself. He makes no sound as he walks down the well worn path, his eyes gleaming with the light of another life. His cane digs into the earth with each step, bringing him closer to his destination and the discovery of the unknown.

What he finds at the end of his journey is not at all what he expects.

There are about ten people, ranging in age, both male and female standing in a small clearing. That, however, is not what catches him off guard. Instead, Mr. Gold is surprised in what they all lack.

Clothes.

Not a single person in the clearing seems to have on clothes, but in the fading light it seems that none of them are giving it much thought. Nudist Colony comes to mind, but he feels like he is mistaken in assuming such a thing.

That is when he sees her.

She is on the far side of the clearing, twirling around with her arms stretched out wide as she stares up at the painted sky. Even from this distance he knows that it is her. There is no doubt in his mind.

Her hair is the same, perhaps a little duller and a little tangled, but it is her brown hair. Gold cannot see her eyes from here but he is certain they are ocean blue and perhaps as dull as her hair.

She doesn't see him, of course, but he sees her. _All of her_. Her skin is almost as white as porcelain, just like his chipped cup. Thinner, not as whole, but she is completely alive.

"Belle," he whispers to himself, his mouth fumbling around the word. Years have changed them but he has not forgotten. His hand tightens around his cane as he watches her, memorizing everything, and it is then that he sees something he did not before.

Three people, all dressed in scrubs, stand around the edge of the small group, watching them. It clicks into place then, enough for him to start planning revenge against Regina. The orderlies step forward and the immense joy on Belle's face drops away.

Mr. Gold steps back, and it takes all of his strength to walk away from her for a second time, leaving her in the dark. This time, however, will be the last.


	3. Varying Shades

**A/N: **Prompted by the Rumbelle wars. The prompt was a song and the words 'Start Wearing Purple. This is what you got from me.

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><p><em>Varying Shades<em>

It is, surprisingly, her favorite color despite her inclination for wearing blue and yellow. This particular color becomes the only one that she wears around the home they share on a daily basis. At first it surprises him, but slowly he becomes acclimated to seeing his beauty wearing such and it warms his heart more and more with each passing day.

The answer is quite simple, really, but it is only after a horrid amount of time that he finally realizes _why_ purple has become Belle's favorite color. The reason for such a change is literally staring him in the face each morning and on most nights, but it is only after he catches his dearie looking at him one evening while he gets ready for bed that it clicks.

Belle loves purple because he does.

Many of the suits in his closet are purple, of varying shades and designs. The curtains in his room are a dark purple as well, matching many of his sheets and a few of his comforters. Mr. Gold pauses in the midst of undoing his tie, turning to look at his love who is lying on their bed in nothing but one of his purple dress shirts and a smile.

Rumpelstiltskin then decides that perhaps he should make a deal requiring his fair lady to wear _only _purple.

His tie is long forgotten after that.


	4. the hardest part

A/N: No prompt this time, just something I thought of while in the shower.

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><p><em>the hardest part was letting go, not taking part<em>

"Belle?" her name falls from his lips, colored with relief and the slightest hint of worry. She is sitting on the closed toilet seat, holding something in her fingers that he can't see. Silence is not something he enjoys, not in a home where most days are filled with music and laughter and the smell of tea mixed with just a hint of coffee.

He was once a man that found joy in solitude, but now all he finds is pain as he stares at his beautiful girl and notices that her eyes, as light as the sky on most days, are now as dark as the deepest of oceans. There is patience in this life, and so he stands there gripping the ornate handle of his cane until his knuckles turn white and scream in protest. Seconds pass, fading into minutes, and he is on the verge of saying her name again when she actually looks up at him.

The look on her face is one he has never seen before, and yet somehow he still knows what it signifies. She looks as though she has broken a deal and his heart clenches in his chest as all of the horrible possibilities come crashing down around him. Belle only meets his eyes for a moment before she drops her head, gripping whatever is in her hand just a little tighter.

"Ten of them, Rum. Ten of them all saying the same thing," she whispers, and this time when she twirls the plastic stick in her hand he can see it clearly and his heart gets lodged somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. This can't be happening, but it is and when she nudges the trash can with her foot he looks down and sees the other nine plastic sticks laying haphazardly over one another.

Rumpelstiltskin has always been a coward, but never more so than in this moment when _he doesn't want to know and yet he already does._

"Positive. All ten of them say 'congratulations you're having a baby' when all I really want it to say is 'sorry, it was just the stress making you sick', but… they're positive. We-" her voice breaks and she bows her head just a little more, tucking the small test against her stomach, wrapped up tightly in her hands.

He wants nothing more than to comfort her, and yet at the same time to move would be to fall. So he stands there, white knuckled and breathless until his chest feels like it will explode at any second. He thinks of Baelfire, long gone from him and the world and then he thinks about all of the other children in Storybrooke.

He thinks of Henry, and of the baby girl that belongs to Miss Boyd, and he knows those two children will grow up in this town.

This child, _their child, _will not.

Mr. Gold, because that is who he is in this world, looks away from his partner (because the word _girlfriend_ is not enough and the word wife does not yet apply).

"We got careless, my dear," he whispers, the first words he has said since _Belle _and he closes his eyes. They both know what has to happen. This isn't some fairytale in which they get to live happily ever after with a son or daughter.

This is _hell_ in which a war is about to ensue.

"It won't happen again," he adds and he can see her reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror. He sees her nod, and he closes his eyes once more.

_This is the hardest part of the entire deal._

"I'll make the appointment for in the morning," Rumpelstiltskin offers and his beauty nods her acceptance, but she doesn't move to get up nor does she acknowledge him any further. He wants to sigh, but doesn't. He wants to scream at the world and curse Regina as he tears her down, but he doesn't do that either.

They exist in that small space and all he wants is to say three little words.

_I'm not unhappy._


	5. Lifeboat

**A/N: A prompt that I got awhile back on tumblr. I've been staring it down for awhile but I finally decided that to leave it like this was about as good as I was going to get it. So here I present you a little drabble. The prompt was 'Belle saves Rumpelstiltskin'.**

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><p><strong><strong>_Lifeboat_

He is on his knees in front of the Queen, all of his magic disappearing from him. He is old and tired and broken almost beyond recognition. There is blood, his not hers, staining his suit and spilling out onto the concrete.

Here, at the end of the world, Rumpelstiltskin's power fails them all.

Hers, however, does not. She has fought for him from the beginning and even the end cannot change that. His wild rose appears, driving the words 'Rumpelstiltskin' straight into the Evil Queen's back.


	6. and the strangest thing

**A/N: **The prompt was 'Belle has Mood Swings' and so I present you with this, a prequel to _'the hardest part was letting go, not taking part'_. Anyways, I hope you enjoy.

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><p><em>and the strangest thing, was waiting for that bell ring<em>

"Damn it!" her voice drifts up the stairs, catching Mr. Gold by surprise as he is straightening his tie in front of the mirror. He closes his eyes, counting to three, before he grips his cane and starts down the stairs and into the kitchen where he knows his Belle to be. She is standing in front of the stove when he enters, her hands trembling at her sides. He hesitates just inside the doorway, knowing his cane has already given his presence away.

Rumpelstiltskin stands there a moment longer before he dares interrupt her thoughts. "Darling?" his voice is quiet enough not to startle, but loud enough so that it carries in the space between them. Even though she should have heard his cane, should know that he is there, Belle jumps and turns to look at him, knocking a bowl from the counter with her elbow in her surprise. It clatters to the floor, plastic thank god, but something about it sets her off even more and the anger turns to tears.

He is at her side as fast as his lame leg will allow, wrapping her up in his arms and forfeiting his cane to the hardwood floor. Belle trembles against him for the longest time with her face buried in the space between his neck and shoulder. He whispers sweet nothings in her ear, doing his best to soothe her from a hurt he doesn't quite understand and just as suddenly as it began it all comes rushing to an end.

She pulls away, sniffling as she wipes at her eyes, giving him a watery smile. "You're going to be late, Rum," she chides quietly. He has barely opened his mouth to respond before she is bending down to pick up his cane. Rumpelstiltskin takes the offered piece of wood, hesitating before he closes his hand around it.

"Belle, are you-"

"I bet Henry is already waiting for you at the shop," she interrupts and he sighs, knowing that this conversation will not be had. Belle presses a kiss to his cheek before she turns away, leaving him to go while she picks up the bowl. He almost hesitates but instead he pastes a smile on his face and bids her a quiet goodbye before he leaves.

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><p>She doesn't come for lunch that day.<p>

He comes home to silence.


	7. bittersweet, I could taste it

**A/N: **Sequel to 'the hardest part'. Something I wrote while at work.

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><p><em>bittersweet, I could taste it in my mouth<em>

There is a spare room in their house.

It is a room that could hold a crib and a rocker and a thousand different colorful toys. Instead all it holds is one broken woman and a hundred shattered dreams.

They no longer share the same bed, nor do they touch and rarely do they talk.

He tends to the shop during the day and sits outside of that spare room at night. He wants to smash things, but he doesn't. He wants to yell, but he doesn't do that either. He sits and listens to the sound of them dying.

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><p>There is once that he goes to see Dr. Hopper but he does not go back.<p>

Rumpelstiltskin is still a coward and cannot bear to tell the good doctor how he has so spectacularly broken them.

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><p>He comes home one day to find her sitting at their kitchen table with his chipped cup resting between her delicate fingers.<p>

She doesn't flee when he seats himself across from her.

It is the first time in a month that they have been in the same room.

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><p>From there things move.<p>

There is a day that he comes home to find everything clean. A few days after that there is a tentatively cooked dinner waiting for him on the table. He arrives home to tea and clean clothes and the occasional strand of soft music.

He slowly starts to learn what it's like to smile again.

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><p>The first time Belle cries is the moment that they both shatter irrevocably and rise from the ashes.<p>

The moonlight illuminates the tear tracks on her face as she stands in the doorway to their room, wearing nothing but one of his worn button down t-shirts. He wants to wrap her in his arms, but he waits for her to make the first move. He has to wait.

"… I thought… Hadley for a baby girl and – and maybe Alexander for a boy," her voice cracks, but it does not break.

"They're lovely names, dearest," his voice doesn't break, but is wavers.

It is the first night in two months that they fall asleep as one.


	8. casual, or not so casual, observations

For the prompt 'Mr. Gold and Belle's relationship from Mary Margaret's point of view'. I struggled with this a lot, but I hope that you enjoy it.

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><p><em>casual, or not so casual, observations<em>

The diner is loud until it isn't.

They are intertwined from their shoulders down to their fingertips. Words of affection shared like secrets in the bend of their shoulders and the touch of their brow.

Mary Margaret is sitting at her usual table when she looks up at the sudden lull in conversation, only to see the cause immediately strolling out in front of the diner.

Knowing Isobel's story, watching the way the girl leans into Mr. Gold with such bravery and love, she is reminded of a story. Mary Margaret once read that there were birds that rose from their own ashes, quite like the couple that has just disappeared around the corner and out of sight.

She is a pariah and he is a man well-feared, but together they are something else entirely.

Phoenixes, perhaps.


	9. Just A Game

Word prompt of 'leather'. The most risky thing I could manage, but I am not the best at these kind of things. You have been warned.

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><p><em>Just A Game<em>

It ghosts over her skin, under the swell of her breasts and leaves a warm path down her sides. Already she is trembling violently as she tries to steady each breath in a vain attempt at regaining control. He chuckles and the sound burns low in her gut to fuel an already scorching inferno.

This is the game he always wins but she does not mind.

She feels it brush against her ankles and then under her knees. There is an exhale before it skims first one thigh and then the other, leaving her breathless. She is getting impatient as the heat burns her from the inside out. He reads it in her eyes and on her face.

He feels it in the tremble of her skin beneath the leather on his hand. There is a moment he is waiting for, a concession on her part, and it comes as a choked sound of pleasure and his name.

"Rum-" it is a strangled plea on lips as he _finally touches_ her. He brushes his lips against her brow, soothing her with endearments as he works her toward completion. Belle squirms beneath his body, her fingers twisting the sheets the closer she gets to her breaking point.

Rumpelstiltskin smiles, nips at her neck fondly, urging her higher with another finger and harder strokes. His beauty is panting shortly thereafter with a litany of sounds causing a fire to coil low in his gut, but he does not forget himself.

_The game he plays is for her and her alone._

Her body is throbbing beneath his touch and Rumpelstiltskin loves the beauty of it all.

A single touch is all it takes to bring her crashing down around his fingers and he grins into the curve of her shoulder.

She is the instrument he plays best.


	10. for you I'd bleed myself dry

A new writing exercise with some friends where we take turns prompting a word each day and write to it. The first was 'leather', and now today is 'dreams'. It seems everything is coming out Rumbelle.

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><p><em>for you I'd bleed myself dry<em>

He bleeds in his dreams, for Belle and Bae, rarely ever for himself. There are nights when he wakes up and just looking at Belle sets his soul on fire in the worst of ways.

On those nights, just the sight of her blue eyes and brown curls creates a crushing guilt that threatens to shatter him.

Nights like tonight, however, he wakes up surrounded by her arms and her warmth and it's easier to breathe knowing she is alive. Belle kisses his bare shoulder as she slides a leg between his in an effort to pull him closer.

Rumpelstiltskin goes willingly in an attempt to lose himself in her warmth.

"I love you," she whispers in a voice that is colored with the rough undertones of sleep and tinged with exhaustion. There is another distinct tone to her voice that affects him more than any bleeding nightmare ever will.

_It is the sound of tears and a clear-cut ache._

She is hemorrhaging just as much as he is.


	11. Fallen Empires

Word prompt for 'Innocence'.

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><p><em>Fallen Empires<em>

The dagger is fluid between her fingers as it weaves in and out of the spaces found there. Blood paints her feet the color of revenge before penetrating the earth as a poison. The bodies are heaped around her figure like sheep lead to slaughter and the sound of pleasure that leaves her throat is not that which a princess would make.

If they want to portray her as the wild beast, then a wild beast she shall be.

The not-man stands at her side with razor sharp teeth and scaly skin that is green and somewhat gold. He has had everything to do with her corruption, but it is not something he regrets.

When Belle was innocent he could not have her.

Now she is ruined and Rumpelstiltskin plans on swallowing her whole.


	12. Tea Time

Let the fluff ensue. Word prompt of 'drinks'.

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><p><em>Tea Time<em>

The first time she makes tea it is horribly bitter and settles in his stomach much like he imagines a rock would.

_Her look of anticipation and nervousness glues his mouth shut and he drinks on._

The second time his tea is so sweet that he feels like he has eaten a fairy and that is not acceptable.

_She is wringing her hands together, distraught, as though she knows something has gone wrong. He swallows the damn fairy tea and hopes he doesn't die._

The third time he barely manages to keep from spitting out his tea that is a horrible mix of something sweet and sour and _spicy_.

_She isn't around this time, and so he does spit it out after a cursory look to make sure she hasn't snuck back into the Great Hall_.

There isn't a fourth time, not immediately, at least. He rather likes having taste buds, thank you. And so Rumpelstiltskin heads her off at every chance he gets, declining the drink or preparing enough for both of them on his own. It goes on this way for a few weeks until one morning he returns from deal making to find Belle sitting on the table with a tray full of tea and slightly burned tarts at her side.

Her smile is anxious as she catches his eyes when he steps up to the table with caution.

"I made tea," she offers in a whisper, trying her best to be brave and coming up short with only nerves in her way.

Rumpelstiltskin nods before he tilts his head and manages to look away from the tea. "That you did, dearie," he replies in a voice that is laced with his usual bite but tempered with distrust.

Slowly, as if he is reaching for a snake and not a simply chipped tea cup, he takes his tea and holds it in front of him for a moment as though debating if he wishes to try fate at such an early time of day.

She waits, her legs swinging back and forth while she does her best to give him a golden smile.

The cup moves toward his lips without permission and before he realizes what he has done there is the warm sensation of tea sliding down the back of his throat.

His eyes slip shut and he groans because _it is perfect_.

_Her smile widens inexplicably, but he cannot see that because his eyes are closed._

He takes another ship, bites back another groan, and offers her a teasing smile that is partially hidden behind his cup.

"Well done, dearie," he quips after a moment and she flushes under his praise.

It's only when he eyes the somewhat burnt tarts that his stomach and face sink all at once. _That is another adventure entirely._

She laughs.


	13. Sealed In Steel

Word prompt of 'dagger'. Somewhat risky, warning! Also, thank you to my Twin for assisting me with some awkward wording, a title, and assuring me that this did not sound like a stupid idea.

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><p><em>Sealed In Steel<em>

The first brush of steel against skin occurs just below her ankle. It sends an unexpected jolt along the length of her spine and curls her toes and if _this_ is her reaction she wonders how it feels for him to see his weapon alongside the porcelain of her skin. Of course his face gives nothing away as he brushes the tip against her thigh this time; he simply watches the way she squirms.

She has allowed him such freedom with this deed and it makes his heart soar while his stomach plummets.

"Close your eyes, dearie," he whispers in a voice pitched so low that it almost sounds human. (The key to the entire puzzle is the fact that _he's not_ and she is.) Her lashes brush her against her cheeks and he nods in satisfaction, leaning forward until his warm breath ghosts across her neck.

Her body arches and his grin is all teeth before he nips at the flesh under her jaw just to hear her gasp in response. What he gets instead is a strangled sort of whimper that causes his stomach to clench in delight. Rumpelstiltskin twists the blade along her skin as he drags it down her stomach to rest just above where she needs him most.

"Rum-" she is pleading for his attention and he gives it most willingly, allowing his claws to trace along the underside of each breast before he drags them down her ribcage. Belle's soft moan of approval shifts into breathy laugh and he smiles. He feels her fingers wrap around his and he lets the dagger go, shuddering as her skin brushes the handle and sparks race along his spine. Their eyes meet and he is captivated by the emotions he sees reflected back at him.

"Belle-"

She cuts him off by pressing a finger against his lips and he kisses it without hesitation. She smiles at him and he wishes that he could take the secret that lingers in the corner of her mouth.

"I am yours, Rumpelstiltskin." she pierces her flesh with the dagger, nothing more than a pin prick in her palm. He reaches for her wrist but instead ends up wrapping his fingers around his weapon. She is waiting and if he was unsure of this all before, he is entirely certain now.

The tip of his weapon presses against his palm until he bleeds, but it does not even sting. Belle observes a single drop of mixed blood as it trails down the blade before falling to the sheets.

She is not afraid. Their hands reach and find, fingers twining together and palms pressing until it is impossible to tell where she ends and he begins.

"I am yours, Rumpelstiltskin," her voice is full of conviction as she squeezes him tightly.

"You are mine, Belle." _She is his._ He raises their combined hands above her head, shifting until their bodies are just as connected as their fingers. The beautiful girl beneath him exhales softly in surprise and he presses his lips to the skin just behind her ear. "You are mine, and I am yours."

The name on the discarded dagger shimmers and changes until five small letters adorn the space just below the place where his name has rested for decades.


	14. once upon a time

Word prompt of 'paint'.

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><p><em>once upon a time<em>

She paints a pretty picture on top of his desk in nothing but a red silk shirt that has ridden up her thighs and given him the perfect view.

Once upon a time Belle was an innocent princess. Now she is a corrupted temptress, but who is he to complain?


	15. and living is not silent

Word prompt of 'noise'.

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><p><em>and living is not silent<em>

She doesn't like quiet.

He wakes up to a house that is full of the sounds of nature, comes home to a house that is a live with music, and falls asleep to the sound of running water.

She spent the better part of thirty years in a cell surrounded by _nothing_ and now she prefers to be enveloped by everything. He doesn't protest because he prefers to be wrapped up in everything she is and that includes an array of sounds that he could live without.

He doesn't, however, but he cannot live without her and she is the sound of his life.

There was a time in which Mr. Gold would come home to noise.

Now he returns home to life and the word makes all the difference.


	16. water shows the hidden heart

A word prompt fill. It's been a bit since I added anything to this particular series, but here you go.

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><p><em>water shows the hidden heart<em>

An exquisite moan passes from her swollen lips, juices dripping down her chin, running along her neck to disappear down between the valley of her breasts. Her eyes are closed in pure pleasure; skin flushed a pretty pink from her cheeks down to her toes. There is a beat in which nothing happens and then her tongue slips out, brushing along her lips in one smooth swipe that leaves nothing behind.

Her fingers dig into pink flesh and then he jerks, his knee hitting the underside of the table hard enough that he curses and loud enough that the beautiful creature across the table startles. The watermelon falls from her hand to the plate with a thud and he looks away from her chest to find her blue eyes locked solely on him. Something on his face, perhaps the warmth in his cheeks or the lust in his eyes, causes her pale skin to turn a darker shade of red that makes him grin like a bandit.

"You're horrible," she mutters with no real hate, ducking her head as she picks up a napkin to wipe at her face and hands. He chuckles, the sound settling low in her stomach while she holds tight to the paper napkin in her hand. So tight, in fact, that it rips in two and her love breaks out into a barking laughing.

Belle raises her eyes then, shooting him a look that would kill if there was any real heat behind it. Instead all she manages to do is encourage even more laughter and she groans, reaching up to snatch another napkin from the ornate holder that is adorned with a teapot on each side. "Just incorrigible," she adds, making sure her fingers are good and clean before she goes to wipe her face.

She is halted by his hand on her wrist and his fingers wrapping around her own. Her eyes rise to take in the heavy-lidded gaze of her man and it steals her breath. He smiles in a way that is so suggestive and then he is leaning across the table and tugging on her wrist so that she is tilted toward him. His breath warms her cheek just moments before she feels his tongue dart out to taste the skin just below her chin.

Gold hums his approval against her jaw before he kisses a path toward her lips. The first touch is nothing more than a gentle brush, just enough to tease, before he returns to deepen the adventure. Belle tastes the watermelon on his tongue, the water and the hint of melon with a touch of salt, and she moans. Her teeth graze his bottom lip and he retreats, just far enough that their eyes are able to meet.

"Time to go back to work, dearie," he whispers with just a hint of the imp in his voice. She looks up, finding the clock resting on his desk and she exhales her disappointment. Her lunch is well over and she needs to return to the library in the next five minutes. Belle rises from her chair as he releases her wrist and she brings the napkin up to finishing cleaning up the mess she made. She cleans up their lunch, throwing the containers away before smoothing out the fabric of her blue summer dress.

Belle is turning to pick up her purse and go when he clears his throat. "Oh, and Belle?"

She turns around, catching the way his eyes linger on her legs before moving up to rest on her face. He is grinning like the cat that ate the canary and her heart skips a few beats.

"Don't forget the watermelon for dinner."

His laughter at her quick retreat follows her out of the shop and lingers all the way until the library.

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><p>And the word prompt was 'watermelon'.<p> 


End file.
